


waited my whole life for just one thing

by returnsandreturns



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Daddy Kink, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-19 09:09:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16531613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/returnsandreturns/pseuds/returnsandreturns
Summary: “Oh my god,” Foggy says, faintly. “Matt, how old are you?”“Eighteen,” Matt says. “How old are you?”Eighteen. The third thought that Foggy had after an apparently teenage Matt was sitting in normal Matt’s apartment, after two emphatic what the fucks, was how he didn’t realize that Matt looked like a ridiculously hot twink at that age when he didn’t have all the scars and scruffy facial hair and jacked muscles to compare it to. There’s something about that mouth when Matt’s clean-shaven that’s just—obscene.He’s going straight to hell.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Totally questionable albeit magical time travel age difference -- Matt's eighteen, Foggy's thirty-two. 
> 
> Also completely unedited because I wrote this at work and have class tonight and was too impatient not to post it.

"Is time travel a—normal thing now?” Matt asks, sitting down on his couch and lifting his head curiously, waiting for a response.

He looks scared but surprisingly calm, shaky fingers twisting together in his lap. Foggy’s going insane.

“No, nope—I mean, things have gotten weird for sure but as far as I know, nobody in our immediate circle of people is surfing time and space,” he says, trying not to babble and babbling nonetheless, “and I’m including in our circle, like, ninjas and a heavily armed murderer and _Elektra.”_

“Who’s Elektra?” Matt asks, making a confused face.

“Oh my god,” Foggy says, faintly. “Matt, how old are you?”

“Eighteen,” Matt says. “How old are you?”

 _Eighteen_. The third thought that Foggy had after an apparently teenage Matt was sitting in normal Matt’s apartment, after two emphatic _what the fuck_ s, was how he didn’t realize that Matt looked like a ridiculously hot twink at that age when he didn’t have all the scars and scruffy facial hair and jacked muscles to compare it to. There’s something about that mouth when Matt’s clean-shaven that’s just— _obscene._

He’s going straight to hell.

“Thirty two,” Foggy says. “I’m ancient.”

That gets a smile out of Matt that makes Foggy’s heart race; Matt clearly notices, mouth dropping open for a moment before he closes it and shakes his head.

“So, you’re telling me we survived law school?” he asks.

“Narrowly, buddy,” Foggy says, deciding to stop pacing and sit on the coffee table in front of Matt.

“Are we saving the world?”

Matt’s voice is caught between joking and hopeful and it tugs on Foggy’s heart in a real way. He doesn’t want to tell him about Daredevil because maybe he can disrupt the space time continuum and keep Matt from deciding he needed to punch injustice in the face repeatedly every night, but it’s hard to look this beautiful boy in the eye and not tell him that he’s spent his whole life doing his damnedest to save everyone he can.

Foggy reaches forward to touch Matt’s shoulder, surprised when Matt goes kind of pink.

“Matty,” he says. “You have no idea.”

*

Matt was wearing a black sweater and a baggy jeans and a cross necklace that he stopped wearing sometime near the end of freshman year when Foggy let himself into his apartment and found him standing in the kitchen, drinking a beer that he’s apparently too young to drink. Foggy knew immediately upon looking at him that this wasn’t his Matt; it took just a little interrogation to realize that it was his Matt from more than a decade ago, nervous but steeled, full of questions.

“Did you upset a witch or something?” Foggy asks, sitting next to him on the couch now, trying not to watch Matt’s mouth and the line of the throat as he finishes off the bottle of beer.

“No, I tripped and hit my head when I was—uhm—”

“Stupidly parkouring?” Foggy asks, amused. “Yeah, I know all about it.”

“When did I tell you?” Matt asks, surprised.

“After I found you bleeding out on this very floor after you fought multiple ninjas,” Foggy says.

Matt is clearly restraining himself from saying how cool that is but he manages it, instead saying, “That took me a while.”

“Did you—I mean, _do_ you want to tell me about it?” Foggy asks. “Your me?”

“I want to tell him _everything_ ,” Matt says, immediately.

“Everything?”

Matt makes a face and ducks his head to hide it.

“Matty, you’re probably an hallucination or something,” Foggy says. “You can tell me.”

Without looking up, Matt asks, “Did I ever—tell you how I feel about you?”

Matt hasn’t even said anything definite but it still hits Foggy like a freight train.

“No,” he says, cautiously. “No, you didn’t.”

Matt takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

“Your heart’s beating really fast,” he says, softly.

“Matty.”

Matt wraps his arms around himself like he’s trying to get smaller when he mumbles, turning his face away, “I kind of love you.”

There it is. The thing Foggy’s been dreaming about hearing since he was also eighteen, when he fell in dumb, breathless, hopeless love with his hot roommate. But Matt loved him, too, at least in the dimension that this one came from. If one of them had just been less obviously terrified about it, maybe they could’ve made it happen.

“I love you, too,” Foggy says. “I—I always have.”

The look of pleased surprise on Matt’s face when he finally looks up almost knocks him out flat.

“ _Oh_ ,” he says, smiling.

*

There’s no sign of regularly aged Matt so Foggy takes this one back to his apartment so he doesn’t have to be alone and because Matt still has a thousand questions about everything leading up until this point in their lives, several times nudging up on the idea of them as a romantic thing before dancing away from it again. They said what they said and now neither of them knows what to do about it, especially because all Foggy wants to do is kiss this Matt right on the mouth even though it’s definitely wrong. Matt’s barely an adult by legal definition.

That doesn’t stop him from giving Foggy a heart attack by walking out into the living room in nothing but a towel after taking a shower so Foggy can see the distantly familiar sight of his pale, mostly scar-free skin.

Matt can clearly hear what he’s doing to Foggy because he grins slowly.

“Do you have clothes I could borrow?” he asks, biting his lip.

“Uhm,” Foggy says. “Yes—yeah, I do.”

Matt wearing his sweatpants and an old Columbia t-shirt, looking comfortable as he sits down close to Foggy on the couch and accepts a cup of coffee, definitely doesn’t do anything for Foggy at all.

“Why didn’t you ever say that you liked me?” Matt asks, after a few long moments of silence.

“Because—we’re not exactly in the same league, pal,” Foggy says, laughing. “You should see some of the women that you date.”

“Can’t really do that,” Matt says, adjusting his glasses pointedly. “Leagues are bullshit, though. I want you so bad, Foggy.”

“Tell me that whenever we get you back to your time,” Foggy says, dryly. “I can guarantee you I’m more than willing.”

“Well, I meant—I kind of meant _now_ ,” Matt murmurs.

Matt wants him now. Inappropriately aged Matt who is sitting next to him looking embarrassed and hopeful and kind of squirmy.

“I’m one million years older than you, kid,” he says.

“Don’t care,” Matt says, turning toward him, getting an extremely familiar stubborn look on his face. “You’re still you.”

“It’s a bad idea,” Foggy says.

“Fog,” Matt whines, softly, smoothing a hand up Foggy’s arm. “C’mon, the age thing is kind of hot, isn’t it? I’ve thought about being with older guys before.”

“. . .you _did_ have a crush on Professor Turner,” Foggy says, accusingly, and Matt full-on blushes.

“Yeah, maybe,” he says. “Nothing like the one I’ve got on you, though—I think I want you even more now than I did before, now that you’re more—experienced. And I can _hear_ how much you want me, Foggy, I want you to _take_ me, please.”

“Jesus _Christ,_ I didn’t think your daddy issues extended this far,” Foggy says, as cautiously as he can, grateful when Matt chokes on a laugh.

“We could test it out,” he says, climbing into Foggy’s laugh so Foggy grabs his waist by instinct to steady him, voice going quiet and tentative when he says, “Daddy.”

“. . .oh fuck,” Foggy whispers.

Matt leans down to kiss him and Foggy traces a hand down the long line of his back to rest on Matt’s ass and if he’s going to hell, at least he’s going like this.

*

“This isn’t your first time with a guy, right?” Foggy asks, when he’s got Matt naked and in bed and underneath him, running his one hand up and down his chest while his other is stretching Matt slowly with three fingers buried inside of him, stopping to brush over his nipples because he’s found out it makes Matt start a little like he’s been shocked.

“No,” Matt says, shaking his head and breathing heavily, rocking on Foggy’s fingers. “I slept with the T.A. from our psych class a few months ago.”

“Oh, shit,” Foggy says. “He was hot—did he fuck you?”

“Mmm hmm,” Matt hums, smiling up at him dreamily. “It was good.”

“I bet,” Foggy says. “Do you think you’re ready? I want you on top, Matty.”

“Yes, daddy,” Matt says, laughing at the way that Foggy sighs as he pulls his fingers out. “You like it. I can tell.”

“I like it too much,” Foggy says, leaning down to kiss him before he rolls over onto his back. “Now get on my dick, Murdock.”

Matt climbs on top of him quickly, resting a hand on Foggy’s stomach and digging his fingers in lightly as he wraps the other around Foggy’s erection and lowers himself onto it slowly. Matt’s _tight_ , this slick heat that makes Foggy buck his hips up unconsciously and shove himself deeper, apologizing before Matt gasps out, “No, fuck—fuck me, daddy.”

Foggy digs his feet into the mattress to lift his hips up after he’s seated fully in Matt, taking him by the hips and fucking up into him so Matt moans and make soft _uh uh uh_ noises that Foggy can barely handle every time he thrusts up. Matt gets braver after a few minutes and says, “Wait, stop—let me,” before he rests his whole weight on Foggy for a moment and then starts to basically bounce on his dick.

Foggy’s definitely going to die from this. He doesn’t even mind.

“Jesus, Matty,” he says, moving his hips up as much as he can with Matt moving aggressively on top of him. “You like that?”

“I love it,” Matt gasps. “I love you.”

It feels strange because this isn’t _his_ Matt, not really, but he remembers exactly how much he loved this Matt when they were freshmen—every awkward, funny, brilliant part of him. If only he’d known he was also really into dick, maybe everything would be different.

“Love you, too, buddy,” he murmurs, touching fingers to Matt stomach before tracing them down to wrap around Matt’s dick. “You want to come for me?”

“Yeah, please,” Matt says, still fucking himself, voice pitched higher when Foggy starts to jerk him off and he says, “Please, daddy, please, please, please.”

“Good boy,” Foggy says, because it’s _true_ , and Matt yells when he comes all over his chest and Foggy’s hand and slumps down on top of him to hide his hot face in Foggy’s neck.

“Foggy,” he mumbles.

“You did so good, Matty,” Foggy says, rubbing his back soothingly. “Get on your back, okay, I want to see your face when I come inside you.”

Matt told him when they started that he didn’t have to use a condom, which is further evidence that Matt is eighteen and an idiot, but he was happy to get on his knees and roll the condom on for Foggy and do something inexpert but amazing with his mouth that Foggy wants to make _sketches_ of.

Matt climbs off with a pained noise and sprawls out on his back, gasping when Foggy immediately hitches his legs up and pushes back inside of him, leaning down to lick into his mouth slowly as he starts to fuck Matt with firm thrusts. He’s not going to last long and Matt doesn’t help, making happy noises and mumbling sweet things against Foggy’s mouth, wrapping his arms around Foggy and holding on.

He pulls back when he’s close and Matt’s head drops down onto the pillow, his wet mouth open and panting before he says, “Come inside me, Foggy, please.”

When Foggy comes, it’s with Matt saying his name instead of _Daddy._ Something about that is even hotter.

*

They’re lying in bed after Matt’s cleaned up, wrapped up together, when Matt says, “I kind of thought doing this might send me back to my own time.”

“Are you telling me you used my body for time travel reasons?” Foggy asks, laughing.

“Just an added bonus,” Matt says, turning to press a wet kiss to his cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Foggy says. “Make sure to tell me that when you do get back.”

“First thing I do,” Matt promises.

“Then feel free to recreate this scene,” Foggy says. “It’ll be harder on a twin bed but definitely worth it.”

“Second thing,” Matt says, happily.

In the morning, Foggy’ll track down one of the ridiculous people in the city who can help them with this, but for now, Matt’s falling asleep in his arms and Foggy feels like everything will be right as soon as he gets his appropriately aged Matt back and lets him know exactly how loved he is.

Possibly with his dick.

Matt snores softly into his chest and Foggy presses a kiss to the side of his head, settling in for the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not the same person that you want,” Matt says.
> 
> “No, I want you—I want you both,” Foggy says, hooking a leg around Matt. “You’re the same person—you just have the muscles and the stubble and I’m pretty sure you could pick me up if you wanted—you’re like a man. It’s killing me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO, THIS IS A TRASH FIC. 
> 
> the age difference is a little more ~emphasized~ here, i think

Matt wakes up with Foggy saying his name, which is a pretty normal occurrence—any slight head wound and Foggy comes over to colorfully narrate baseball games for him and only judge him a little for hitting his head on the ground or the edge of a rooftop or somebody’s fist. He smiles as he sits up until he hears Foggy’s heart racing.

“What’s up?” he asks, hoarsely. “Is it worse than it feels?”

“. . .you’re not Matt,” Foggy says, like he’s on the edge of panicking but is trying to stay cool.

“Pretty sure I am,” Matt says, raising his eyebrows then wincing at the pain in his back when he swings his legs over the side of the bed. “Where the hell did I sleep?”

“Your bed— _Matt’s_ bed,” Foggy says. “In the dorm.”

“. . .the dorm,” Matt says, faintly. “Columbia?”

“Yeah,” Foggy says, laughing hysterically. “Columbia. What the fuck is happening?”

Foggy smells like shitty energy drinks and this cologne that he used to wear before Matt finally asked him to stop before finals during their first semester. It immediately puts him back in a moment like this a long time ago, when Foggy woke him up from a nightmare and spent the rest of the day distracting him so Matt wouldn’t have to think about it.

“Foggy,” he asks, slowly. “How old are you?”

“Eighteen,” Foggy says, after a moment. “I—don’t think I can say the same about you, dude, so I’m gonna need some answers before I officially start freaking out.”

Matt takes a deep breath.

“Well, shit,” he says.

*

Foggy wants to know everything and Matt doesn’t want to tell him, but he doesn’t have a good excuse for the head wound and the scars and just—the whole picture. And this is probably just a weird dream, anyway—he’s had a lot of dreams about being back at college with Foggy, but most of them are more explicit—so he might as well tell him the truth for once.

“So _that’s_ why you’re so jacked,” Foggy says, swallowing hard. “Wow, Matt.”

He’s pretty sure that Foggy’s heart is racing for a different reason. Foggy stirs where he’s sitting on Matt’s bed and adjusts like he’s probably getting hard and Matt’s not—he’s not unaffected by it.

“Is there anything else you want to ask me?” Matt asks, shifting closer to him, thinking about touching him just casually before he reminds himself that he’s not eighteen and that Foggy _is_ eighteen and this situation is absolutely insane.

“Uhm, yeah—since you’ve got the whole—senses on steroids thing,” Foggy says, hesitantly. “Could you tell when you were my age that I—that—oh, fuck, that I have the _biggest_ crush on you?” Matt hesitates and Foggy groans and starts to stand up. “No, never mind, I’m gonna go die now—”

“Whoa, hey,” Matt says, laughing and grabbing his arm to keep him there. “I—I could tell you were attracted to me for a while but that’s it. You had a crush on me?”

“The size of _Alaska,”_ Foggy says. “I think I maybe love you which is _so_ stupid because it’s only been, like, a few months, but I can’t help it.”

This is news to Matt, news that he’s not sure how to take, because maybe he shouldn’t show his whole hand here but Foggy _loved_ him when Matt was falling in love with him, too, and—

“I loved you,” he blurts out. “I still love you. It’s not stupid.”

Foggy chokes on air.

“You _loved_ me?” he asks.

“Since—what month is it right now?” Matt asks.

“November.”

“Since last month,” Matt says. “That’s when I knew for sure.”

“It was when I got really drunk and serenaded you with the greatest hits of the Backstreet Boys, right?” Foggy asks, shakily, making a joke to give himself time to think, like he always does.

“Yeah, actually,” Matt says, smiling. “I knew if I still liked you after hearing your singing voice, it was probably love.”

“Jerk,” Foggy says, shoving him gently, hands lingering on Matt’s arm and his chest afterward. “So. . .did we ever tell each other?”

Matt shakes his head.

“It’s been complicated.”

“Because ninjas.”

“Basically,” Matt says, laughing. “If we can fix this—get younger me back—you should tell him. He’ll be happy.”

“Are _you_ happy?” Foggy asks, hesitantly, moving closer so he’s pressed along Matt’s side. It makes Matt _ache_ because they really used to be close like this, spent most of college more or less in each other’s laps. If he’d just gotten over himself and made a move, things could’ve been so different.

He smiles and tells the truth again.

“Yeah, Fog. I’m happy.”

He probably shouldn’t be surprised but Foggy makes a cut-off groaning noise like he’s really taking a chance and pushes up to kiss Matt, sliding his fingers into Matt’s hair. It’s easy to forget for a moment that this isn’t _his_ Foggy, not really, because he’s wanted this for so long and he just wants to undress Foggy and show him exactly _how much_ he wants it. But there’s that terrible cologne and Foggy kisses like he’s not completely sure he knows what he’s doing and he’s a _freshman_.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Matt says, pushing him away gently. “This is—you’re eighteen, buddy.”

“Did you want to fuck me back then?” Foggy asks, then, when Matt nods: “What’s the difference?”

It’s not anything resembling a good argument. Foggy’s fingers trace down his arm, curiously.

“Are you sure?” Matt asks, turning towards him. He’s weak.

Instead of replying, Foggy pushes him down onto the bed and drapes himself over Matt, kissing him roughly—a little too wet, a little too much teeth, but he takes to it well when Matt slows him down and takes charge. Foggy laughs happily when Matt flips them over so he’s on top and can pin Foggy down to the bed.

“This is a bad idea,” he says, probably not very convincingly.

“That’s never stopped us before,” Foggy says, sighing and spreading his legs. “Matty, please—I’m sure. I want you.”

“I’m not the same person that you want,” Matt says.

“No, I want you—I want you _both_ ,” Foggy says, hooking a leg around Matt. “You’re the same person—you just have the _muscles_ and the stubble and I’m pretty sure you could _pick me up_ if you wanted—you’re like a _man._ It’s killing me.”

Matt leans down to kiss him again, cautiously this time, cradling Foggy’s face in his hands. He rolls his hips down just to hear Foggy moan.

He can repent as soon as he gets back to his own reality.

“Oh my god, you _can_ pick me up,” Foggy says, gasping as Matt climbs off of him just to heft him off the bed, wrapping his legs around Matt tightly. “How is this even happening?”

“We probably shouldn’t question it much,” Matt says, carrying Foggy over to press him up against the wall and bury his face in his neck for a moment before he says, “Oh, by the way—throw out that cologne and I’ll love you even more.”

“Oh, _fuck_ , I’m sorry,” Foggy says, laughing. “Do you want me to take a shower?”

“. . .yeah, actually,” Matt says, after a beat.

*

“I can hear if someone’s coming,” Matt promises, but it’s the middle of the night, anyway, so there’s nobody around to interrupt him when he lifts Foggy up against the wall of a shower stall and fucks him slowly while hot water beats down on them. Between too much lube and the water and Foggy’s inability to stay still, he’s pretty sure there’s a significance risk of injury but there are bigger, time-related concerns looming and he just wants to give Foggy what he wants while he can.

Matt also knows from all the years that they lived together that Foggy can’t keep quiet when he’s getting off so he alternates between enjoying the sound of Foggy moaning and whining as he clenches around Matt’s dick and smothering the noise with kisses.

“Mmm,” Foggy moans, turning his head away to break a kiss. “Harder, will you—please, Matty, _harder_.”

“Yeah?” Matt asks, warmly, nuzzling at his neck.

“Please,” Foggy says. “Wanna feel it all day tomorrow.”

“Fuck, Foggy,” Matt breathes. “Hold on, I’m sitting you down.”

Foggy makes a soft, disappointed noise but it goes away quickly when Matt turns him around and bends him over; Foggy presses his hands flat against the wall and lifts his hips up and makes a noise that could wake up the whole floor when Matt pushes back inside of him with one smooth thrust.

“Matty,” he sobs out.

“You want it hard?” Matt asks.

Foggy makes a broken affirmative noise that Matt takes for _yes_.

By the time that he’s close, he’s got Foggy’s chest pressed up against the wall and he reaches down to wrap his fingers around Foggy’s dick, moving on instinct to cover Foggy’s mouth with his hand when Foggy _shouts_.

“Surprised me,” Foggy says, laughter muffled.

Matt presses a firm kiss to the back of his head and slips his fingers into Foggy’s mouth.

“Suck on them, buddy,” he murmurs, in Foggy’s ear, “or you’re gonna get me caught in a public shower with a teenager.”

Foggy barks out a laugh and sucks them deeper into his mouth, biting down on them when he comes, the sharp pain pushing Matt to follow him quickly. He’s turning Foggy to wrap him in a hug when he hears someone coming down the hall.

“Be quiet,” he says, softly.

“Make me,” Foggy says, pushing up into a kiss.

*

Later, they’re lying in Foggy’s bed and Matt’s curled around Foggy’s back, pressing soft kisses to his neck.

“I thought maybe you’d turn back into my Matt,” Foggy murmurs, sleepily, “because of, like, sex magic.”

Matt laughs and pulls him closer.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says. “Sleep first.”

If he’s right, he’s pretty sure that his Foggy’s probably figuring this out already, but they’ll face it later. Foggy's warm and his heartbeat is calm and--really, the twin beds aren't as bad as he remembered.

He doesn't mind being here for a night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is just warm and fuzzy and not explicit

When Matt wakes up, it’s in a soft bed that smells like Foggy— _his_ Foggy, coffee and flowery shampoo and—sex, apparently. Somebody definitely just had sex in here.

Foggy’s still asleep when Matt sits up slowly, taking a moment to listen to him breathe softly before he reaches out to stroke fingers through Foggy’s hair to make sure that it’s short, smiling hesitantly when Foggy wakes up with a yawn and makes a pleased noise until he says, “Oh, shit—you’re big again.”

“So are you,” Matt says. “You saw younger me?”

“I did, I—saw him,” Foggy says, hesitantly, sitting up next to him. “You?”

“I saw you,” Matt says, nodding, taking a deep breath again before he adds, “It, uhm—it kind of smells like sex in here.”

“Yeah, about that,” Foggy says, strangled, but that’s all Matt needs—he pushes in to kiss Foggy gently, sliding fingers into his hair again.

“I fucked you against the wall of a shower stall,” he murmurs, against Foggy’s mouth. “In the dorm.”

“You called me _daddy,”_ Foggy says, and Matt feels himself blush at the idea before Foggy pushes him down onto the bed and climbs on top of him, pinning him down to kiss him roughly. It’s different from kissing Foggy last night; he’s sure of himself, moving Matt where he wants him, sliding a knee slowly between his legs to press against his erection; Matt moans and rocks up against it.

Age has definitely made him more assertive. Matt doesn’t hate it.

“Daddy?” he asks, after a few minutes, pausing to catch his breath.

“I made a daddy issues joke,” Foggy says. “You really ran with it.”

“You told me I was a real man and begged me for it,” Matt says, smiling when Foggy laughs.

“I didn’t know we were so slutty,” he says.

“I didn’t know you _loved_ me,” Matt says.

“You’re one to talk.”

Foggy doesn’t sound mad, though, bending down to kiss Matt again before he rolls over onto his back and tugs Matt on top of him instead.

“I love you,” Matt says, smiling down at him.

“I love you, too, Matty,” Foggy says, heart beating steady, sounding like he’s smiling back.

They kiss for a few long moments before Matt pulls back to ask, again, “Uhm, can I—could I maybe—”

“Call me daddy?”

“Yeah,” Matt says, laughing.

“Only if you fuck me against a wall,” Foggy says, reaching up to push Matt’s hair away from his forehead. “I’m waggling my eyebrows suggestively.”

“Yeah,” Matt says, happily, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his mouth. “I assumed.”

*

The Matt that’s on top of Foggy when he wakes up is still unnecessarily handsome, but he’s smaller and lighter and _his_. He watches him sleep for a few moments, face slack and happy, pressed against Foggy’s chest—but Matt wakes up after he moves to free a half-asleep arm.

“. . .Fog?” he asks, yawning.

“Fun-sized Matt,” Foggy says.

“What?” Matt asks, making a face.

“Oh my god,” Foggy says. “Please tell me you also had a crazy time travel experience, otherwise I’m having some _really_ vivid dreams.”

Matt starts and sits up abruptly, reaching up to touch Foggy’s face, slide fingers into his hair.

“It’s you,” he says, smiling. “I’m back.”

“Did you meet grown-up me?” Foggy asks.

“Yeah,” Matt says. “You cut your hair.”

“ _Betrayal_ ,” Foggy says. “ _You_ got even hotter somehow.”

Matt grins and murmurs, “Foggy,” and leans in to kiss him. It’s different than kissing older Matt but it’s better, because Foggy feels like he’s been waiting for this forever, both of them pushing in close to kiss each other like they’ve done it before. Which—they kind of have.

“This is crazy,” Foggy says, turning away.

“I know,” Matt says, resting their foreheads together, “but—did I tell you? That I wanted this?”

“I told you, actually,” Foggy says, “but you told me— _everything_ else, you superpowered weirdo.”

Matt kisses him again before pressing his face into Foggy’s neck, breathing in.

“You slept with me, I can smell it,” he murmurs. “I—I slept with you, too.”

“Was I good?” Foggy asks.

“You were perfect,” Matt says, raising his head so Foggy can see him smile. “I think _you’ll_ be even better.”

“Do you think you can pick me up?” Foggy asks. “Because, hate to say it, but— your older jacked self might win this one.”

Matt makes an offended noise and Foggy chokes on a surprised laugh when Matt drags him off the bed and picks him up with a soft pained grunt.

“Oh my god,” Foggy says, giggling as they stumble forward until he’s pressed up against the wall, clinging to Matt to keep himself up.

“I’ll start lifting weights more,” Matt says, kissing him softly.

“I’ll start coming and watching,” Foggy says, rubbing their noses together. “Hey, what did you do with older me?”

“Oh,” Matt says, immediately looking shifty when Foggy leans his head back to look at his face. He sits Foggy down carefully but stays close, holding onto him. “I, uhm—I rode you.”

“. . .and?” Foggy asks, because he knows that face. There’s something very fun that Matt’s not saying.

“I called you something,” Matt murmurs.

“Okay, you are _legally_ obligated to tell me now,” Foggy says.

“Daddy,” he says, after a moment, making a face. “I called you daddy.”

“. . . _Matthew_ ,” Foggy says, sure that Matt can hear his heart racing as he moves them so he can press Matt up against the wall instead. “Did I ask you to?”

Matt shakes his head.

“I wanted to,” he says.

“I _love_ you,” Foggy breathes, cupping Matt’s warm cheeks.

Matt makes the most beautiful face that Foggy’s ever seen.

“I love you, too,” he says, and Foggy kisses him before stripping Matt’s t-shirt off and tossing it across the room, followed by his own.

“We’re going to have _so_ much fun,” he says, taking Matt’s hand and tugging him toward his bed.

**Author's Note:**

> I reside [on the tumblr](http://returnsandreturns.tumblr.com), where hopefully I'll be producing lots of content.


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